His Sour Lemon #2.1

Part 29: Checkmate

CHAPTER 29: Checkmate

February 19th, 2033.
Outskirts of New York City, America.
Fitzgerald Institute for Troubled Youth.

I dreamt of a girl in a red dress. Hair the colour of the sun's tears. Eyes of a city.

"Dreaming again?" Christian asks.

I look over. Fourteen years old, my back was still too numb and after two months of telling me to expect no help from any of them, to show that relying on someone was such a weakness, such a lib ability. That to neglect is to survive alone first and foremost, "Aren't we all?" Dead in the eyes, dead in the voice, I turn away.

"We all learn the lesson of neglect. It is his way of surviving, Edmund."

"It was your choice to turn away. So, this is me turning away." The piece of paper with poetic words burned in the fire I won the right to sit next to. Children were shivering at their tables and guards locked me in close to the only fireplace in the room as a reward for a winning fight and millions made to people who spat on us as if we were the infested insects. When the cheering, roaring laughter of men and women in cigars and alcohol, rolling spit worth actual money flying from their lips.

A joke I wanted to tarnish.

A fight I never wanted to win.

A war I plan to wage.

Be ready.

*******

June 9th, 2042.
5:00 pm, London, United Kingdom.
Advanced Business Engagements Academy (Private Business
Institution), Sylvan Lakeshore.

"MR CREED!" The screeching of her voice was enough to make me turn to her. She flinches-whatever she sees in my face, that voice she dared to use dies out in her throat. I was protecting the woman I love, the woman I'm now fucking living for and she was protecting the asshole she thinks is worth sleeping with. Then again, they're so suited for one another.

"Nothing, and unless you want the school to know just what you've done, you'll write this off as an accident."

I'm followed as I leave, watched as I walk, judged without clear expression or they'd be scared to end up just like Claude Borne who still can't sit up on his own.

Talon instructed we move to our private lounge, "Don't tell lemon that happened." I mutter, I didn't want her to know just how much I was suffering without word from her.

"Believe me when I say, she'll find out even if I don't tell her." The unfortunate twin mutters, I close my eyes. Not wanting to admit he was right, but somehow my Lemon could find everything, gifted with such a technique that no lie could slip through any crack without her being notified. No secret left unread. I hated it, because my lies, my secrets couldn't fit the world...too many to supply. To unravel, like darkness consuming a light I did not want to lose. A light I was too afraid of ever losing.

"What kind of fucker would say shit like that?" I rip out of pursed lips, anger still rallying through my bloodstream like a Damn disease overthrowing me. I felt toxic and dangerous. I felt dangerous enough to kill.

I catch the brother raise an eyebrow, "You seriously don't know. He was provoking you, and you-the hot-headed imbecile took the fucking bait." If someone could just shut this bitch up for five seconds...